


Strange New Friend

by redledgers



Category: Marvel
Genre: AU, Clint rescues Natasha, Clintasha - Freeform, F/M, Natasha Feels, Protective Clint, Strangers to Friends to Lovers, clint is also a talkative puppy, security guard clint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-06
Updated: 2015-09-20
Packaged: 2018-03-29 08:56:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 11,338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3890260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redledgers/pseuds/redledgers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For the prompt "I found you passed out in front of my door so I just dragged you into my home and put you on the couch please don’t scream."</p><p>Clint helps out a stranger and makes a new friend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

He didn’t want to seem like he was rescuing a damsel in distress, but the bruise across this woman’s neck and the fact that she was completely unconscious worried him. So now he had a strange redheaded woman on his couch because Clint Barton was too stupid to call for help. Also because he decided it might not actually be that serious and he wasn’t about to put anyone in a position by assuming they could go to the hospital.

He was sitting on the armchair with a beer and a glass of water for her if she ever woke up when she did wake up. It took her a moment before she startled.

“Please don’t scream!” He extended the glass of water. “Please don’t. You were passed out on the curb so I brought you in you can go now if you want just please don’t scream.”

She eyed him before realizing that everything hurt, and she sagged back onto the couch.

“Do you need painkillers? Here’s water.” Clint all but shoved the glass into her hands and dashed off to get painkillers. She accepted them gratefully. “So are you okay? I mean what happened? Not that it’s my business anyway. But are you okay?”

Well, she wasn’t about to talk, that’s for sure. He refilled the cup for her. “My name is Clint, and I can show you an ID if you think I’m making it up. I’m not. I can take you wherever you want to go, the hospital or something if you need it. I know some first aid too if you need it I just didn’t want to touch you. I promise I won’t stalk you if you give me your address.”

The woman finished the second glass and looked at him again. “Do you always talk this much?”

He was floored. Mostly because she actually spoke but also because this gorgeous woman had such a husky (and sexy) voice. “I…uh…No?”

She sat up slowly, testing her wounds. “I’ll live.”

“What happened?”

She narrowed her eyes. “Ice pack?”

Clint jumped up to get it for her, cursing at himself for being rude. He came back in with an ice pack and stood beside the couch. “Can I get you anything else?”

“A ride to 54th street would be great, assuming that’s not where I am right now.”

“Now?”

“Unless you have something better to do.” She stood, and he saw her wince. When she slowly tried to make her way to the door, he offered his shoulder to lean on.

“So 54th street?” He helped her into his car.

She grunted in return, and adjusted the ice pack.

“Okay, can I get a name?” The traffic wasn’t horrible for once in his life. No reply from her. He decided to stay silent the entire rest of the ride until they pulled onto the street. “Any end of the street I can get you to?”

“Here’s fine.” She waited until he pulled over to get out and put the ice pack on the seat. “Thanks.”

“Be safe, okay? I don’t know what happened but it probably shouldn’t happen again.”

He caught what he thought was a smile, and then she was making her way slowly down the sidewalk.

When he got back home, he found a note tucked in the cushions of the couch.

 _“Thanks. I owe you.”_ She’d left her name and a number as well. Clint smiled to himself. Maybe he should help out more random strangers.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint goes on a lunch outing with his new friend as repayment for the debt she apparently owes him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah it's a series now, because you guys seemed interested and because I had some ideas. I don't know how long it'll be, but stick through it.

Turns out even with a number, Natasha was impossible to get in touch with. He wasn’t going to bother her too much, but a voicemail and a few text messages to let her know that he got her note should have been sufficient enough. Unless she didn’t want him to contact her.

It was about a month or so before he got a text from a number that looked fake. _“I still owe you, I haven’t forgotten.”_ And then an address and a date. He looked up the address and found out that it was a sandwich shop just outside of midtown. “Yeah I can go for that,” he said to himself. Friday at 2 would be fine. He’d take off work that day.

So Friday afternoon he found himself standing outside of an empty sandwich shop, fiddling with his phone so he didn’t look completely lonely. Natasha appeared beside him quietly and motioned him inside.

“You come here often?” he asked after bringing their sandwiches to the table. She’d paid but he insisted she relax while he got them.

“No.” She inspected her sandwich.

“You know if you’re uncomfortable, you didn’t have to take me to lunch. You could’ve just gone off on your own way.” He, on the other hand, dug into his sandwich with gusto.

“I owed you. After this, I don’t. It’s simple.” She looked up at him. “You helped me, the least I could do was feed you something.”

Well she knew the way to his heart at any rate. He munched quietly for a few seconds. “Am I allowed to ask you questions or is this a strict eat and run gathering?”

“You can ask, but I may choose not to answer.” She seemed a little more at ease here than she had the day he’d found her, but he suspected it was because she knew this place better than a stranger’s home.

“Why were you hurt the day I found you?”

“Do you go around helping every unconscious person you come across?”

“Only people who look trustworthy and who look like they can’t otherwise defend themselves.”

She frowned. “I can defend myself.”

Woops. He finished half of his sandwich and sat back nursing his coke. “So you uh, you have any hobbies or anything? Something unrelated to probably martial arts or whatever you do?”

He might have seen a smile but he wasn’t sure. “I read and travel.”

That might explain how hard she was to get in contact with. “What sorts of things do you read?”

“You eat fast,” was her reply.

The silence afterward was awkward for him but probably comfortable for her. When they’d both finished eating, Clint gathered up the trash onto one tray. “I had a nice time, I think.” he said as they both stood to leave. “Thanks for lunch.”

Natasha nodded.

“So I guess this is it, huh, since you paid whatever debt?” He dumped the trash and walked with her to the door.

She paused before opening the door. “There is nothing that we can be completely sure of in life.” With a flourish, she opened the door and stepped out. “Except maybe birth and death.”

She practically vanished instantly. Clint shook his head. Natasha was an enigma he really wanted to figure out, but he could only do that if she let him. Fuck, he was a goner for a woman he didn’t even know a thing about.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little shorter than the past two chapters and a little late in coming, but I'm back!

           

It was another month or so before he ran into her again, this time while out on a jog. Well, he didn’t literally run into her. But she caught his attention on his way back to his building and flagged him down.

“Hey.”

“Be my cover,” she said quickly, grabbing his arm.

Confused, Clint went along with it, slowing to a walk. She let him go a few blocks later. “You’re welcome?”

Natasha considered him. “You’re sweaty.”

“Well yes, you see, this is what happens when you work out.” Seriously if she wanted nothing to do with him, why did he keep seeing her? “Why do you keep showing up?”

“Showing up? This is the third time we’ve met. Besides, you’re useful. Now if you don’t mind, I’m leaving.”

“Useful? Babe, at least by me a drink first. Or a bottle of whiskey and I’m good for however long it lasts.”

“I have a feeling you’ll drink it in a night.” Before he could stop her again, she slipped away. He was starting to think she’d been trained by Batman.

 

***

 

Two days later, there was a bag with a ribbon tied around it sitting in front of his apartment door. He opened it carefully only to discover a bottle of his favorite whiskey. Instead of pouring a drink right there, Clint set it carefully on the counter. “Still good, baby,” he said, pocketing the ribbon.

If her way of repaying debts was buying him lunch or alcohol, he wanted to know why. He’d keep the whiskey closed until he figured out how to tell Natasha that she didn’t need to pay him back for anything unless she cleared out his bank account. She seemed like she needed a friend, or at least someone consistent in her life, and hell he could do that. He'd bail her out until he found out she was on the most wanted list, and then he'd have to figure out what to do.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a dry spell, Clint sees Natasha again.

Clint didn’t see Natasha for four whole months after that, and he figured maybe she moved on and the whiskey was her parting gift. Literally nothing in his life changed anyway, he continued working his security job, he ate pizza, and he went to the gym. Sometimes he’d go to the old indoor range and fire his rarely used bow.

He did see her one night when he was coming home from a late shift. He turned on his living room light to see a shivering mess of blankets on the couch. If it were anyone else, he’d be on guard, but instead he crouched beside the pile. “Natasha?” He gently nudged aside a blanket covering her face. “Shit, Natasha.”

She was cut up and bruised, and she just blinked at him while he pulled away the rest of the blankets to assess the damage. There was a shirt balled up and tied to her thigh. One quick check told him she needed stitches, and badly.

“Natasha, how long have you been here? Shit, I’m going to drive you to the hospital is that okay? What happened?”

She coughed. “No…hospital.”

“Your leg needs stitches and you probably need a blood transfusion. I’m taking you somewhere.”

“Thread?”

It took him a second but oh god she wanted to stitch herself up. He wasn’t about to let her do that. Clint wasn’t a seamstress by any means, but he could patch up simple things. He rummaged through his drawers until he found his sewing kit. “This is going to be a little messy stitching, I apologize.”

When the needle was sanitized, he came over with rubbing alcohol and the unopened bottle of whiskey.  He shoved it at her. “For the pain.”

Natasha bared her teeth at him and set it down as gently as she could. Taking that as a no, Clint began to stitch up the gouge on her thigh. He cleaned it as he went and chatted to try and make her forget about any pain she might be feeling (was she feeling any?).

Finished, Clint assessed the other visible injuries and tried to clean them gently, but Natasha snatched the towel from him and cleaned herself. “What happened?”

“Food?”

“Shit, yes, food is probably good for you right now.” He got her water, painkillers, and a box of crackers to hold her over while he made her a sandwich. She shyly accepted everything and ate and drank quietly, watching him work in the kitchen.

“I got blood on your blankets,” she said softly when he gave her the sandwich.

“It’ll come out in the wash, don’t worry.” Clint sat on the floor beside the sofa and drank his own water. “Can I get you anything else?”

She shook her head but the motion was nearly imperceptible if he hadn’t been paying attention.

“I’ll leave you be, okay? You need to sleep, I’ll just be in the other room.” He stood and got some couch pillows to help make her more comfortable. “Tomorrow you’re going to tell me what happened so this doesn’t happen again.”

Natasha carefully set down the glass and closed her eyes. Clint made sure she was asleep before cleaning up the dishes and going to his own room. He left the door open so he could hear her if she needed him. He thought he heard a muffled “Thank you” as he left.


	5. Chapter 5

Natasha was still there in the morning, sleeping in the same position he’d left her in. Clint made breakfast for both of them and found his first aid kit so she could change her bandages when she woke up.

“Can I shower?”

Clint stopped dishing out the eggs. “I have a bath if that’s easier. Your leg…”

“Can I?”

“Of course you can.” He brought over a plate for her and perched on the arm of the couch to eat breakfast with her.

She ate slowly and watched him scarf down his own food. “Why help me?”

“I mean I didn’t have much of a choice this time, since you broke into my apartment somehow, but what else was I going to do, kick you out?” He put down his empty plate. “I’m guessing we’re basically friends now and that’s kinda what friends do.”

“Friends.” She rolled the word around in her mouth before finishing. “Bathroom?”

“Down the hall on your left, do you want help? I’ll have to get you a towel and stuff, do you want new soap?”

Natasha gritted her teeth and accepted his help to the bathroom. While she ran the water to her liking, Clint bustled about getting her a towel, washcloth, and soap. He left clean dressings on the counter for her, and backed out of the room. She cleaned herself carefully, scrubbing away dirt and dried blood and checking the stitches he’d made. Getting out of the bath was difficult, but she refused to ask for help, and she managed to wrap herself in a towel and pull the drain plug.

By the time she had changed into the clothes he’d left for her and fixed her bandages, Clint had put the blankets in the laundry and was neatening up the living room. “Thank you,” she said almost wistfully, hanging in the hallway.

“Any time.” Clint picked the whiskey bottle up off the floor.

She crossed the room gingerly and touched it before sinking back down onto the couch. “You haven’t opened it yet.”

“Haven’t felt the need yet. I kinda want it to last, you know? So you don’t have to feel the need to repay me for everything I do and stuff. Although I thought I wasn’t gonna see you again, so this is nice…I guess. I mean not so nice, you’re hurt.” He sat beside her. “You gonna tell me what happened or am I just going to have to guess?”

“You could guess, I suppose.”

“You’re part of a gang and the mob wants to destroy you so they got to you, maybe because you’re the ringleader or something?”

She smiled a little, a small sort of side smile. “Is it okay if I stay another night? Just to make sure the mob thinks I’m gone and until I look a bit less battered.”

“Can I get you anything? Something that’s not my clothes, food, whatever? I have to go to work later but I can go out before.”

“Security won’t wait for a lone injured girl?”

Clint gaped. “How did you…?”

“Your uniform last night, and also I ran a background check after you dropped me off the first time you helped me.” She shifted carefully and lay curled in the corner of the couch.

“I’m flattered.” 

 

***

 

When he went to work she had fallen asleep, and he left her water, painkillers, the TV remote, and snacks for when she woke up. He came back with takeout hours later and got glasses for the whiskey. Natasha slowly sat up and turned down the volume. She looked through the takeout boxes. “Thai?”

“Yeah I like peanut butter so I got this, is that okay? I can make you stuff if you want.” Clint poured them each a glass of whiskey.

“Thai is fine.” She ate quietly, glancing at the TV from time to time, but mostly focused on him.

“You okay? You keep staring.”

“I just want to figure you out. You help a complete stranger, don’t ask for anything in return, don’t try and violate my space, and you just roll with whatever happens.” She raised the untouched glass of whiskey. “And you finally decided to open this up.”

Clint shrugged. “You kinda looked like you needed a night off with some takeout and alcohol.” He didn’t consider them friends, but he felt a sort of kinship to Natasha that he didn’t understand. If this was the last time he saw her, at least he’d know she was mostly okay and hopefully headed in the right direction.

Natasha took a small sip of the whiskey. “But that’s not _you_ , that’s just something you did.”

“Okay, truth for a truth. Liars take a drink. You need this, and you wanna figure me out? You can lie, but if I call your bluff, you drink. Same for me.”

Natasha got a wicked smirk. “You’re on.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm still going to try and update this at least every two weeks, I'm going to try and write ahead of what I post though in case I fall behind D: Real life sucks, fic is better.


	6. Chapter 6

He got tipsy first, so she was clearly the better liar. Clint had started to call out everything as bluffs, but she had discovered his strategy and was telling truths. Or she was double bluffing him. He couldn’t tell. But the whiskey was good, the food was good, and he felt content for the first time in a while. Working nights had made him less likely to go out with his pals, so this camaraderie, although probably not long lasting, was welcome.

“You think we’re friends now?” he said, rolling his neck out and making a face.

“I don’t…I don’t do friends.” Natasha swirled her glass. “So I don’t think we are.”

“Oh we’re friends sooo friendship.”  Clint picked up the box of noodles and all but dumped it on his face. “You are my beeesst friend.”

Everything he’d told her aside from two testers, had been true, so Natasha was pretty sure that this semi drunk state Clint was in wouldn’t hamper his truth telling. Curiously, she asked, “Why are we friends? What makes two people more than just acquaintances?”

Clint leaned on her. “S time together we’re having takeout n stuff s what friends do.”

She moved his glass out of his reach. “Clint, I can’t do friends, not with the life I live.  There’s no good way to go about it.”

“Just fine with me yeah.” He barely reached for his glass, then dropped his arm in defeat. “M gonna call that bluff so hard. Drink up Tash.”

She hesitated but drank. She didn’t have to keep in touch with him (however sparsely she did and how loosely one defined the phrase), but she found him to be safe enough to be a backup plan. She never had backup plans before. She probably shouldn’t even start getting used to this one, but it would be nice while it lasted.  “You’re the first person to have taken pity on me, not that I need your pity, but you don’t expect anything in return. If that’s your definition of friendship, it’s loose, but I guess we are.”

“Knew it!” His celebratory fist pump nearly caused him to topple off the couch.

"I….Clint, be careful.” She grabbed onto his shirt, not that it was going to do anything anyway.

 “So what’s it that you do when you’re not being injured on my couch, hmm?”

Natasha began closing the takeout boxes and stacking those that were empty. “Work, just like you do.”

“Mmmm yeah but what sort of work does the gang do? Do you rob the rich or do you do vigilante shit?” He stopped leaning on her and propped his feet on the coffee table.

She looked him dead in the eye. “I lure men into my trap and then I kill them.”

He gulped. “Bluff?”

“Not always.” Natasha examined her nails, knowing the casual gesture would put him off more.

Somehow he sobered up a little. “Your leg better? Can’t do painkillers yet because you drank things but do you need any?”

“Are you planning to overdose me? I’m not here to kill you. If I were, you’d already be dead.” Natasha ran her fingers gently over the bandage and held back a wince. “I’ll be fine to leave tomorrow. I might still leave you alive.” She pulled one of the freshly washed blankets off the back of the couch.

Clint took the hint and cleaned up the remainder of the boxes. He left her painkillers in case she did need them and slipped off to his room to watch the news. Natasha adjusted her leg and settled back onto the couch. Having friends was dangerous, but she kind of liked the idea of having Clint as a friend.


	7. Chapter 7

As he thought, she was gone in the morning. The blankets were folded neatly, and she’d left a note tucked under the whiskey bottle. _Thank you. Your friend, Natasha._ He smiled to himself and went about neatening up the place. He wasn’t a neat person in general, but he felt like it would be better in case he continued to get unexpected company.

Natasha stayed away until she was healed, and came back just after he’d finished an overnight shift. Clint wanted nothing more but to fall into bed and sleep for the rest of the day, but when Natasha knocked on his door at 6AM, he went to answer it because she never knocked.

She was holding a box from a nearby pastry shop (he thought) and looking a little less worse for wear. “Can I come in?”

He stifled a yawn. “Yeah sure, of course.”

Natasha stepped by him and crossed the space to put the box on the counter. “I brought breakfast, if you’re into that sort of thing.”

“I love breakfast?” He went over to investigate.

“It’s Russian stuff, from a bakery I found last week. If you don’t like it it’s fine, I’ll just take it home.”

Home. “Where is home for you, then?” Clint picked up a pancake looking thing and bit into it. It wasn’t horrible, so he continued eating.

She shrugged. “Here and there.” After a beat, she looked at him. “I want to be your friend.  You’ve been so kind and I’ve just been here. It was kind of a thing I just did I thought it would be good and that I was helping people but I really wasn’t and I can’t really rectify anything without getting killed.”

Clint put down the pastry. “Rectify what?”

“My past.” Natasha sat down on one of the bar stools and picked at a pastry. “Thought I was helping little girls but I was just turning them into me.”

“Is that why you’re always disappearing and getting hurt?”

She bit her lip. “First it was work, then it was running. I think I could get out for good though so I keep coming back here.”

Clint sat beside her. “What is it that you do to the little girls?”

She stayed motionless, and Clint almost thought she had stopped breathing. He decided not to press the issue further, and instead finished whatever it was he’d started eating. Natasha didn’t speak again until he’d poured them glasses of milk and sat down again.

“I came over from Russia to recruit girls into a training program that promised to teach them basic things like schooling but also would provide them with access to trainers to become Olympic athletes. It’s always been targeted at the low income or underprivileged girls. Places where they won’t be missed, because the training takes them away full time. I think I….” She took a breath. “I think I had selective amnesia because all I do is train these girls to kill targets and sometimes I have to too, but I always forget what it is that I’m doing. I think I lost myself.” She wouldn’t meet his gaze.

Clint looked at his glass of milk after a moment. “You didn’t know what you were doing until it was too late,” he said softly.

“But I stayed when I did. I fucked up, Clint, and I don’t really have anything else. I lost it all.”

“And you want my help finding it or do you just want to chill?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know what I want,” she said softly.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Natasha needs a friend and a new start, Clint offers to help her.

They finished breakfast in silence. Clint was working through ways he might be able to help her and Natasha was just trying to recompose herself. When she finished eating, she padded over to the couch and curled on it, almost cat-like. Clint stifled a yawn and went to sit in the armchair.

“You can go to bed.” She was so quiet he barely heard her. “I know I interrupted you.”

“Are you sure?”

She waved her hand. “I’ll keep myself occupied.”

Hesitantly he went to shower and nap. She was watching some game show when he woke up a few hours later. “You like these?”

“American daytime television is all game shows,” she replied, watching him sit down.

“Okay, so we like that sort of thing. But what can I help you with? Honestly.”

She lowered the volume even more and sat up gracefully. “I want to live like a normal person.”

“I’m hardly normal, my sleep schedule depends on whether I work a day or a night shift, and I’m more likely to stay in bed than work out.”

“That’s more normal than what I’ve been doing for the past few years. I just…I want someone consistent to help me settle down.” She stretched and looked at him. “Clint Barton, you’re the most normal person I know, and you’re my friend.”

He considered her for a second. “What are you going to do until you’re settled?” His stomach rumbled and he frowned at it. “Anyway, I could push some stuff around in the other room and put a mattress for you, that way you wouldn’t have to sleep on the couch. And we could find you an apartment or something? It’ll work out, I think. You have guts and drive.”

Natasha smiled and ducked to hide her smile. “You should probably have lunch,” she said softly. She got up and padded to the kitchen to rummage around the cabinets in search of food. Clint was about to protest that he could just order takeout when she started cooking something. Graciously, Clint set out dishes at the table for them.  He wasn’t sure exactly what she was making, but it smelled pretty good when she was finished and dishing out the contents of the pan.

“Didn’t know you could cook,” he said, tasting the food.

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me.” Natasha perched on the chair and ate carefully. “Figured you’re spending a lot of time trying to help me so I might as well make you lunch.”

“Didn’t really spend all that much time yet, babe.” Clint grinned between bites. “So, you down with moving in temporarily until we can get you a job and a place of your own?”

Natasha nodded a little too eagerly and then recomposed herself with a large forkful. “Are you working again tonight?” she asked, flicking her gaze between him and her plate.

“Yeah I got a shorter shift tonight but I have some time, we can move the room around and put out the air mattress.” He finished his plate and put the leftovers in the fridge. “This place is your home, okay?”

She smiled and washed her own dish. “I’m going to run an errand when you leave.”

“Anything I can get when I’m out?”

Natasha shook her head. “There’s something I have to do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys are still enjoying it. Each chapter is about 500 words only because it's a chaptered fic and I don't want to make anyone sit through less updates and longer chapters (even though I know people here are capable of it)
> 
> Also I hope it isn't getting too cliche.
> 
> Lemme know what you think, feel free to offer any feedback!


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've still managed to keep this updating about once a week (thanks job for giving me many days off during which I can work on this).
> 
> Thanks to you who've stuck around and are commenting, I just wanted to say this even though I don't respond to them that I appreciate them and you all are great :)
> 
> Anyway, without further ado, chapter 9

When he left, Natasha neatened up her makeshift room and slipped out of the apartment. Cloaked in darkness, she made her way through the streets of Manhattan. She stopped three times to pick things up and more just to make sure she wasn’t being watched or followed. A coded note was left, a candle was lit, and then she was back in Clint’s apartment with a black duffel full of everything she owned.

She reheated the leftovers and spread her things out on the air mattress.  It wasn’t much, but she’d survived on it long enough, and at least here she’d have consistent access to a washing machine. So she put all her clothes in the wash, took a shower, and settled for a shirt of Clint’s that she planned on borrowing temporarily.

He came home when she was folding her laundry. “Hey.”

She looked up from the shirt. “There’s still some leftovers from lunch in the fridge if you’re hungry.”

“You’re wearing my shirt.” He looked amused.

“I wanted to wash my clothes all at the same time. You’ll have it back soon.” She smoothed out the pile of clothes and moved the stack neatly beside the bed. There was no chest of drawers for her, but she didn’t want to feel like she was living out of a suitcase for a while.  

“I have the day off tomorrow.” There was nothing to the phrase, it was just a statement that hung in the air.

Natasha looked back up at him. “That’s nice.”

“We could uh, go out and do stuff if that’s safe for you?” He paused. “You know like get lunch and just walk around, maybe do some errands?”

“Didn’t you run errands before you left?” She was both amused and perplexed. Why not run all your errands at once, since it limited how often you had to leave.

 “I mean I should clean out the fridge and since you’ll be here for a while I thought I might put stuff in there that you liked?”

She smiled. “Yeah, that’d be nice.”

“And if there’s anything in general that you want to do just let me know. I mean obviously you can go do things on your own you’re a grown woman but if you needed a security detail, not that I think you do you’re pretty capable but—”

“I’ll let you know if I need you, yeah?” She rubbed her palms on her thighs. “And if there’s anything I can do to make up for it, like pay rent or groceries or something, please let me. I don’t like feeling like a burden to anyone, and honestly I didn’t expect you to be this kind.”

Clint shrugged. “Looked like you hadn’t had anyone be kind to you in a while, that’s all. I got no one else I have to care about aside from my drinking buddies and stuff.”

Natasha was quiet.  Clint, sensing something might be wrong, dismissed himself to clean up and change into comfier clothes. He heated up the leftovers and kicked back on the couch to watch the news. After a few minutes, Natasha crept out and curled up on the corner of the couch and watched with him. She’d almost forgotten that Clint had a life outside what she knew of him, and she wasn’t sure how she would deal with his friends should the situation arise. 


	10. Chapter 10

Natasha paid for the groceries the next day despite Clint’s protests.  “It’s only fair,” she said, handing the cashier money. He pouted and complained all the way back to his apartment, and then she set about making a lunch they could bring with them around the city.

“Is there any place we shouldn’t go, like where you might get spotted or something?” Clint asked, finding a bag that could hold the food.

“Um, I hate Times Square with a burning passion, it was good to disappear in but it’s too crowded. I never got to see a lot of Central Park? Other than that, I think it’ll be my discretion where we shouldn’t go.” She put drinks in the bag and pulled up her hair.

They wandered Central Park and had a picnic, and Clint honestly thought he hadn’t had a better day in at least the past few months. Natasha was quiet and reserved but he knew she was watching everything. He didn’t know much about her past, what sort of things might have kept her from even exploring a place like this, but it was a step in her freedom, so he’d take it.

She was cautious, as she had been on their excursion to the grocery store, but once they hit the park, she relaxed. No, she didn’t wonder at the trees like a child, but she did sit down many times to enjoy the sense of safety and calmness. They chatted idly while they ate lunch, and Natasha listed off a few things she knew how to do that she could maybe get a real job doing.

“Why don’t you just work security like me? It’s a good paying job, if the hours are a little weird, but you seem to have the skills for it.” Clint shrugged and offered a water bottle.

“Yeah, security. Hire me. Because it’s not like I haven’t stolen anything in my life.” She accepted the water gratefully.

“Well, not everyone in the business has a stellar track record, but it’s okay. This is still a job and I trust you enough. I think you could do it. Plus I’ve been able to afford my own place in Manhattan so that’s maybe incentive enough. You can think about it.” He lay back on the grass and shielded his eyes from the sun.

Natasha joined him, red hair spilling behind her head. She looked at him curiously. “Clint Barton, why do you continue to be kind?”

“Dunno, maybe so you’ll stop questioning everything I do?” A pause. “My mom raised me right, that’s all. Took me a while to learn it for real but I remembered it before it was too late.”

She was quiet in reply, lost in her own thoughts of what it might be like to have a family that would teach the sorts of things Clint’s mom probably did.

After what felt like hours of silence, Clint rolled over and sat up. “Wanna keep exploring? We can order takeout and pick it up on the way back if you want.”

“No, I…I’d like to make dinner, if that’s okay. I bought ingredients for something and I might as well make it tonight. As a thank you. We can take a long walk back.” Natasha packed up the leftover food and the trash and stood. “I think I might try out that job soon.”

Clint smiled. “Just let me know when you want me to give my boss a call, and I’ll give him your info. Or like, whatever you tell me your info is.”

They wound their way back through the streets to Clint’s apartment, and Natasha felt a little freer in the city than she had for a long while.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm trying to keep the pace moving, so I hope it's still interesting!


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Natasha meets a new person

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and i hope it doesn't slow down any plot  
> is there a plot  
> i don't even know

She made Clint relax while she cooked up something that smelled unlike anything he had ever smelled in his life. A good smell, though, which was nice. He had his feet propped up on the coffee table when someone buzzed his apartment. “Shit.” Clint scrambled to push the button that would open the door, and a few minutes later, someone knocked on the door.

Natasha froze from where she was at the counter. “Clint?”

“Yeah, shit, I’m sorry, I do a thing on Friday nights I forgot it was Friday are you okay with it? I can go out tonight instead.” He was halfway to the door.

“Um, what are you planning on saying about me?” She carefully resumed stirring.

Clint shrugged. “I’ll figure something out, depending on what he asks.” He opened the door to a young girl holding pizza and a six pack.

 “You cooking something? Should’ve said so and I wouldn’t have stopped for pizza.” She brushed by him and put the pizza on the coffee table. Turning around, she noticed Natasha in the kitchen. “Hey Clint, didn’t know you got yourself a girl.”

“I uh, I didn’t, Kate. Natasha, this is Kate, I mentor her occasionally and we watch Dog Cops every Friday night together. Kate, this is Natasha, she’s been staying with me for a while. She’s a friend and she’s new to the city.”

Natasha was fine with the lie. “There’s enough for three but if you don’t like it you can have the pizza,” she said, turning off the stove. She put small helpings on two dishes and a third larger one for herself, and put them on the coffee table while Clint found the channel he was looking for.

“So,” said Kate after a moment. “Clint take you to all the tourist traps yet? He’s good at taking dates there.”

“She’s not my girlfriend,” Clint shot out.

Over him, Natasha responded easily. “Yes, we went to all of them that I hadn’t gone to myself. Clint knows his way around the city well.” She curled in the corner of the sofa and ate.

Clint almost couldn’t believe the ease with which she lied _and_ that she was able to be so damn convincing. He wondered for a moment how much of her story had been true, but then again, she had seemed pretty vulnerable.

Kate picked at the food Natasha had cooked and carefully took a bite, so as not to seem rude. “What is this stuff?” she asked around a mouthful. “It’s pretty good, but still not pizza.”

“It’s Russian,” was all Natasha allowed before finishing her own plate and leaving the couch for seconds. She ate the second plateful while standing at the counter.

Clint waved his hand. “Pizza is the best, okay? Nothing beats pizza. But yeah this is pretty good. Not normal, but good. Thanks Tasha.” The nickname slipped out; it was the second time he’d used a nickname. Nicknames meant familiarity. And yes, she supposed they were friends, she had said as much to him, but nicknames weren’t in her vocabulary.

Kate kicked back and grabbed a slice of pizza, punching Clint to be quiet because Dog Cops was starting. Natasha watched curiously from the kitchen before slipping off to her little space. She curled carefully on the air mattress and picked up a small book.


	12. Chapter 12

Kate nudged Clint at a commercial. “So what’s her story? Picked up another stray?”

Clint stopped opening his beer mid motion. “Stray? No I…she…she’s a friend okay. She’s not a stray.” Pause. “Wait, another stray? Another? Katie-Kate what are you talking about.”

“Me, asshole. Your mentee that you signed up to help mentor but we just hang out all the time.” Kate laughed.

“Isn’t that what I’m supposed to do? Girl, we both work. And you’re not a kid. You’re 21. Definitely not a child.” Clint nudged a bottle over to her and clinked his against it when she was too slow. “You’re my mentee, she’s my friend. Now shut up because it’s starting again.”

Natasha crept back out when the episode had finished and swiped the last piece of pizza before Kate even remembered it was there. She stood casually behind the armchair eating it. “So what exactly is Clint supposed to be mentoring you in, a lifestyle of pizza and beer?”

“It’s not a bad life to have when I’m not working or socializing. You haven’t complained yet.”

“That’s because I’ve cooked most of the time I’ve been here.” Natasha finished the slice.

“Clint signed on to mentor kids who don’t have a great home life. Not that I have one of those, but I thought maybe an older brother or something would be fun for a while. Then I got this dork assigned to me, but he can barely keep himself on track let alone me.” Kate offered her a drink.  “It could’ve been worse, he could have been assigned to some 13 year old kid who can’t legally drink. Or order pizza I think.”

Clint pouted and tried to cover it up by cleaning up a little. “This dork lets you barge into his apartment and watch Dog Cops.  And sometimes use my Wi-Fi.”

“The things I do for you, asshole.” Kate propped her feet up on the coffee table. “I think I’m gonna stick around for a little longer, watch the news and shoot the shit until I’ve metabolized two beers.  Because I am a responsible adult.”

Clint made a face and mocked her silently, and Natasha hid her amusement. Yes, she’d been nervous when someone had arrived, but it was kind of nice, even if she wasn’t directly involved in hanging out. And she knew she wasn’t going to be able to pause Clint’s life just so she could hide away and find a job. But they’d have to work on Clint’s lying skills and come up with a more fleshed out explanation of why she was staying over.

 

***

 

Kate left before eleven. “Girly-girl I want you home safe,” Clint had said before ushering her out the door. When she was gone, he turned to Natasha, who was quietly cleaning up the dishes and the coffee table. “I’m sorry I forgot to warn you,” he said, coming over to help. “You shouldn’t have to feel the need to clean up after me either.”

Natasha shrugged. “It’s what I do. Organizes my thoughts. Are you planning on showering tonight or can I go first?”

“Go for it. Tomorrow I got work anyway, then I’m going to figure out how to get you a resume that’s credible. And then a job.”

She left him to finish the cleaning and took a hot shower. When she came out, she called softly to Clint, who had taken his spot on the couch again. “Thank you.”


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the day late update! New job, less time. Also this fic will be wrapping up soon-ish, maybe in 5 or so chapters. Stay tuned!

The next few weeks passed in a blur for Clint as Natasha managed to come up with a resume and get a job at his company. She insisted on paying at least part of his rent, but he told her to save up for her own place. They worked similar hours so during their times off, Natasha cooked dinner for him and whatever friends were over, and she learned to enjoy the company of a crowd of people.

One night, after Sam and Kate had left, Natasha curled on the couch watching Clint clean up the dishes. “Clint, what would you say if I moved out?”

He stopped. “Did you find a place? That’s great.”

“No, I just…I feel like I’m inserted into your life so much and I don’t want to impose too much longer, and I don’t know, maybe distance would be good?” She blinked at him.

He studied her. “If you feel cooped up, I understand. I know you’ve spent a lot of time travelling.”

“It’s not the cooped up feeling. Being in one place is actually nice.” Truth be told, she was feeling a little too close to him, and it was unfamiliar to her. She wasn’t sure if any advances would bring an end to his kindness. She shrugged it off. “I don’t know, maybe I’ll get a hotel room for a bit, give you some space.”

“You’re not imposing, trust me. But if you want to, I’m not going to stop you.” Clint crossed the room and put the dishes in the sink. “I will miss your cooking, though.”

“Oh, is that why you haven’t kicked me out yet?” She stood coolly and went to perch on the counter while he washed the dishes. “My cooking, is it? Not my invaluable contributions to your rent?”

“I keep telling you that you don’t have to pay any rent.” He passed her a dish to dry. “I just want to make sure you’ll be okay on your own again.”

Her stomach twisted but not in fear. He was concerned, maybe the first or second person who was ever genuinely concerned about her well-being. And she wasn’t going to lie to herself about how attractive she found him. “I’ll be fine. I can let you know if anything happens. And I might come back, who knows.”

“I’ll keep sending you apartment listings though. Not that I want you out, but because that’s all I can do.”

“Thanks.” She slid off the counter and put away the dry dishes. “I don’t think I thank you enough.”

 

***

 

He helped her clean up the room and when she went to the hotel, it was almost as if she’d never been in his apartment, save for a leftover hair elastic and the faint smell of her shampoo. Clint was a little sad when she left, but he understood why. So he made a point to keep his place clean and cook more than order takeout.

Natasha made herself at home in a small hotel room and did the opposite, ordering takeout and exploring when she wasn’t working. She stayed there two weeks, when she saw that an apartment in Clint’s building was going up for rent soon. Then once again, she disappeared from the luxurious sheets of the hotel and knocked on Clint’s door.  “I’m moving upstairs,” she said, slipping by him and putting down her bag. “Can we order furniture?”


	14. Chapter 14

When she officially moved into the upstairs apartment, Clint spent the better part of a day helping her assemble the sparse Ikea furniture she’d purchased. She had insisted on buying a futon that she could sleep on but Clint told her a bed would be more comfortable. Compromising, she got a very low frame whose sole purpose was to keep the mattress off the ground. As thanks, she cooked noodles and set her new, small table.

“I missed this,” Clint said, sitting down and eyeing the food.

“I know you’re just too lazy to cook.” Natasha poured iced tea for them both and sat down. “You can’t have actually missed me that much.” She started in on the meal hungrily, the past few hours of assembling furniture catching up with her.

Clint sat for a moment. “You’re actually the closest thing I have to a best friend.”

“What about Sam or Kate? Or Steve, or…”

“Well yeah they’re really good friends, and you can have more than one best friend, so maybe it’s just having lived with you for a few months, but I really like you. I think you’re kinda great, and kinda a best friend.” He slurped a noodle and grinned.

“You’re a fucking dork, okay?  A dork who’s not half bad at stitching wounds and abstaining from drinking good whiskey.” She hid her grin with a mouthful of food.

“You changed a lot over the past few months, you know that? Not in a bad way, not that you were being fake or anything, but like you broke out of your shell or whatever the cheesy saying is. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say I won your trust.”

Trust was huge with Natasha. It always had been, and she realized he was right. There wasn’t a moment that she switched from guarding herself to trusting him. It had come naturally and easily. Maybe it had started the first time he helped her, or the second, but what mattered most was that she had found someone to trust completely. Someone who had helped her to settle down and start over. Someone that she might potentially be attracted to on a level deeper than friendship.

She took another large bite.

“Your place doesn’t look too homey yet, even with the furniture,” Clint observed for lack of something else to say.

“I’m going out after work tomorrow to get some stuff.” Natasha sipped her tea. “But it’s all I really need. I lived out of one room for a few months, and I’ve lived on the move for longer. You learn to live with less. This is a luxury.”

“I know.” Clint looked solemnly at her. “You did your research I know, but I was in the military for a bit. Foster homes before that. I know what it’s like to not have a real home. That’s why I tried to give you a temporary one.”

She was quiet as she finished the rest of her food. Clint seemed to understand and he helped her clean up before going downstairs with nothing more than a side hug.

The next day Natasha bought soft blankets and pillows and a pile of cheap used books. It helped fill the space. 


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another quiet moment after Natasha's fully moved in

She worked non-stop for a week before having time to invite Clint over to see the home she’d made. There was a small bookshelf now, half full with books she’d read, books she wanted to read, and books that she thought were pretty. Her futon had a soft fluffy blanket draped over the back, and her bed was full of pillows. It was home, and it was cozy.

Clint took off his shoes when he came into the apartment, and she presented him with another bottle of his favorite whiskey.  “It’s very you,” he said, setting the bottle down beside his shoes. “I like it.”

Natasha shyly ducked. “It’s better being here alone when it looks this way.” She presented him with a folder of takeout menus and let him pick the best place. “I didn’t feel like cooking, I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to cook, I’d consider this an official housewarming. Except you gave me a gift, so I’m going to pay for dinner.” He waved his hand when she protested and called up a Greek place that would deliver.

She let him wander and look at her décor until the food came. “It’s not like your place,” she said, bringing out plates.

“I wouldn’t expect it to be, since it’s yours. I like the books. It’s cozy. I think I said that already. But it’s still true.” He unpacked the bag and laid out the array of food on her counter. “Boss says you’ve been working a lot.”

“I worked a few doubles last week. Got nothing else to do with my time. My social life revolves around you and your friends. And I like work. Makes me feel useful.” She filled her plate and perched on the stools.

“Tasha, we have to get you some hobbies.”

“I have hobbies. Like reading. And intruding your space.” She offered a shy smile and Clint grinned back.

“I’m gonna intrude your space as payback you know, now that I know where you live.” He took a bite out of his food.

“You knew where I lived for five months. In your spare room.”

“No but I didn’t know before that when you kept showing up and disappearing. Also this food is really good, am I right or am I very correct?”

She didn’t smile at his attempted joke. “I lived nowhere,” she said quietly, pushing her food around the plate.

Clint stopped. “Natasha, I didn’t mean to press, I was just saying. You know sometimes I just say things.”

“I know.” She didn’t sound too convinced.

Clint drooped. “I’m sorry.” He got up and went for the bottle of whisky. After finding some glasses and pouring them each some of the alcohol, he sat down. “I promised I wouldn’t ask you anything that made you uncomfortable, and I want to renew that promise. Truce?”

“Not really a truce,” she mumbled, nudging her glass against his. “But okay.”

Clint smiled. “Okay. Not a truce truce.” He threw back his glass and gulped the whiskey down. “I can do that.”


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The start of something more perhaps? And a new level of trust for Natasha.

Their evening proceeded much like nights in Clint’s apartment had. Natasha curled on her couch with a book, nestled among the pillows, and Clint sat on the opposite end. But since she didn’t have a TV he contented himself with flipping through a interior decorating magazine and watching her out of the corner of his eye.

“I can see you,” she said softly after a while. She made no move to look at him though, and he really shouldn’t be surprised that she knew he had been looking.  

He offered no response, ashamed of having been caught, and she kept on reading. Clint poured himself another glass of whiskey and this time drank it slowly.  

She finished the chapter and moved neatly and gracefully, draping herself across the length of the couch. Resting her head on his knee, she poked the magazine out of his hands. “Can’t be that interesting, “ she said, putting it on the ground.

“Something to do. No TV, remember?” He felt vaguely as if he had a cat in his lap.

“If you want a TV, stay at your own place. This is mine.” She picked up the whiskey bottle and swirled the liquid. “How can you drink this stuff?”

“It’s good. You’re the one who drinks like pure alcohol. You might as well drink absinthe.” He took it from her and set it out of her reach.

Natasha rolled over and looked up at him. “That’s what I meant. It’s so weak. You should just drink brown water.” She wrinkled her nose. “Actually no, please don’t, that’s fucking disgusting.”

Clint chuckled. “You bought it for me.” He touched the tip of her nose gently.

She looked at his finger in cross-eyed curiosity, and he realized this wasn’t something she was familiar with. Reaching up, she touched his nose, squishing it a little beneath the pad of her finger. Softly, she said, “Why?”

“Uh, because it’s a thing people do I guess, like I don’t know my mom might have done it to me at one point? I just do it sorry if that was uncomfortable. We’ve just kinda been friends for half a year so I just acted on instinct apparently.”

Natasha smiled her small soft smile and pulled her finger away.  “Okay.” She curled up a little and half nestled into his thigh.

“When are you working tomorrow?” he asked, patting her head gently.

“Day off.” Natasha yawned. “Why, you want to do something?”

“No just wondering if you wanted to sleep.”

Natasha waved off in the general direction of the bookshelves. “Might doze, you can read though.”

“I can’t get up when you’re clearly so comfortable.”

“Your loss.” She was mumbling now, and Clint sighed. The magazine was out of reach and he couldn’t pick up the book she had been reading without jostling her out of place. And if there was something Clint knew well, it was that Natasha fell asleep fast. But she looked carefree, so he didn’t want to ruin it. He had come to adore her and was grateful she trusted him enough to snuggle up on her couch. Trust like that was hard to come by, even he knew that from experience.


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A night together and morning breakfast

When it became clear Natasha was more interested in actually sleeping than just dozing, Clint figured out how to get off the couch and pick her up in a way that wouldn’t jostle her. Once she was safely placed on her bed, she shifted. He was halfway out of the room when she called out softly, “Clint?”

“Yeah Tasha?”

She stuck her arm out from underneath the blanket and wiggled her fingers just a tad. Clint crossed over and crouched beside the mattress. She grabbed his knee. “Where’re you goin’?”

“Back to my place. It’s late, and you’re sleeping.”

Her grip on his knee tightened. “Sounds boring.”

“I have a TV.”

A tug, and he almost lost his balance. “Stupid.”

“Stupid? Why is that stupid? I thought you wanted to sleep.”

“Was dozing.” She poked her head out and looked at him before tugging on his pants. “Then you moved away now I’m not dozing.”

Clint sighed. “Then what is it that you want?”

Natasha wordlessly patted the mattress and tucked her head under the blanket again.

“Okay but only until you’re actually asleep. Which I thought you already were, so clearly I need to have a better indication of when you’re actually asleep.” He stepped over her and stretched out on the mattress. Natasha scooted so he could hold the edge of the blanket, and she was asleep again.

 

***

 

When Clint woke up, he was being firmly snuggled by Natasha, who had curled up against him. He really had to pee, but when he shifted away, she whimpered so pitifully. He’d never heard her make a sound like that, so he stopped. She snuggled up again.

She didn’t move for another hour, and he bolted to the bathroom as soon as she did. He came back to find her stretching. “Breakfast?” She blinked at him innocently. “Got eggs in the fridge.”

“If you’re offering, yeah I guess I could use some breakfast.” Clint’s stomach growled in response.

“I’ll be in here while you make it. Plates in the right hand cabinet over the microwave.” She got up gracefully and padded to the bathroom, towel now slung over a shoulder.

Clint grumbled, but he good-naturedly cooked two omelets in the time it took Natasha to shower. She reemerged with a braid and workout clothes on. “Thought you just showered, why would you want to work out?”

“These clothes are comfortable and I’m hungry.” She sat down at the table and poked the eggs with her fork. “Good job, could use more cheese.”

“How can you tell how much cheese I put in that, you haven’t eaten it yet!” Clint sat across from her.

“No cheese sticking to my fork. But whatever. Thanks.” She smiled though, and ate.

Clint followed suit, eating twice as fast as her. He settled back in his chair when he’d finished. “Are we going to talk about last night?”

“What about last night?”

“I mean the I slept in your bed part of last night.”

Natasha shrugged. “Friends can do that, right? Share warmth and company? It’s not illegal. I’ve done it before.”

“Okay, so it’s just a friend thing, not anything more?”

“Why would it be anything more? You’re my friend. You probably saved my life a few times. I like spending time with you, that’s why I keep inviting you over and stuff. I like this sort of life. Didn’t think I was cut out for it at first, but it’s good so far, and it’ll be pretty good while it lasts.”

“While it lasts?”

Natasha looked at him. “What, you think nothing’s going to catch up with me? It’s been a year since we met. I still have some old ghosts haunting dark places. With the life I led, Clint, there’s never any guarantee.”

“That’s a tough way to live, babe. I know that.”

“It’s a damn good way not to die though, because at least I know it’s coming.”

 


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Kate is a little shit

They finished breakfast in silence, and Natasha went to do yoga on the living room floor. Clint excused himself, going to his apartment and finding Kate sitting outside the door. “Hey girly-girl, shouldn’t you be in school or something?”

She stood, grinning. “You slept over last night. I can tell. You like her.”

Clint let himself into the apartment and Kate barged in behind him. “I do not!”

“Then why’d you sleep over last night?” She went straight for the coffee maker.

“Why are you here anyway?” Clint ran his fingers through his hair and sighed. “I need a shower.”

“I’m here because it’s my half birthday you dork. We always hang out on this day. Don’t know why, but you said so and so it happens.” Kate opened the cabinets and pulled out mugs. “Go shower, coffee will be out when you’re clean and don’t smell like sex.” She wrinkled her nose.

“We didn’t fuck!” Clint huffed off to the shower to clean up and wake himself up more. Kate presented him with a cup of coffee the second he walked into the living room. “I just slept over, okay? She’s a really good friend.”

Kate just smirked and stretched out on the couch. “I know you pretty well, I think. But whatever you say, Clint Barton. Whatever you say.”

He sagged onto the armchair and downed his coffee. “I say nothing, Bishop. You put words in my mouth.”

“Okay so if you don’t love her, then we can spend the rest of the time talking about me. And how much I love that purple shirt you bought me to celebrate my half birthday.”

“I didn’t buy you anything!”

“Yes you did. Might want to check your credit card statement. But I still appreciate it nonetheless.” Kate reached for the remote. “I’ll pay you back if you really have a problem with it.”

Clint waved his hand. “Doesn’t matter, just please don’t do it again. That’s the last time I teach any mentee how to pickpocket.” He directed her to put on the news just for a bit before finding some crime show reruns to watch.

Natasha interrupted them a few hours later by getting into his apartment, hands full of a crockpot. She set it on the counter.

“You teach her how to pick locks? Hey Natasha, can you teach me to break into Clint’s place?” Kate spun around and propped her head on the back of the couch.

“I have a key,” Natasha replied simply, getting bowls out of the cabinets. “And I cooked you a nice home-made dinner because it’s fucking cold out and this is what people do.”

“What’s cold when it’s not even snowing?” Clint muted the TV.

“It is snowing, but you would know that if you looked out your window instead of at your television.”

Kate got up and helped Natasha, sticking her tongue out at Clint. “Can you still teach me to pick locks?” She brought steaming bowls to the island bar.

“I will not teach you how.” Natasha’s voice was firm, and she refused to say anything else when Clint eventually joined them for the meal.

“First snow of the season, huh? You came prepared.”

Natasha ate quietly, and cleaned up her dish when she was finished. She put some of the stew in a bowl for Clint and left as quickly as she had came, crockpot in hand.

“What’s up with her? Bet she wasn’t expecting me, huh? Did I just cockblock you?”

Clint stared at the door. “Not sure. I bet she’ll be okay though. She does that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh no we're coming near to the end!


	19. Chapter 19

Natasha cleaned up her kitchen in a fury, and put the leftovers in her fridge. When she had finished, she sunk down onto the tile and buried her head in her hands.  Time seemed to slow down while she shook, and Clint came into her apartment to find her curled on the floor a few hours later.

He crouched beside her, worried. “Tasha, are you alright?” A gentle touch to her shoulder had her snapping, suddenly lunging for him. He caught her wrists and held her at arm’s length. “Are you okay?”

t took minutes before Natasha’s eyes cleared and she sagged against him. “I won’t teach her,” she whimpered. “Not again.”

“Tasha, you don’t have to teach anyone anything. No one’s going to make you do anything like that again.” Clint held her and rubbed her back. “You’re your own person.” He hadn’t realized that Kate’s simple joking request would set off Natasha. Part of him felt bad that she hadn’t fully gotten herself out, but he knew from experience that her scars would be harder to heal.

Natasha quivered. “I just….” She held him tightly, any tighter and Clint might fear broken ribs. She sighed heavily.

“Shhhh, Tash. C’mon let’s get you standing, and I’ll make you tea or something.” He stood, pulling her up with him. He sat her down on a stool and made her tea while she watched him, wide-eyed.

“Don’t tell Kate,” she said quietly, accepting the steaming mug.

“I won’t, I promise. I know she didn’t mean anything from it, but I also know that’s not important right now.” Clint stood close, and Natasha held the hem of his shirt. “Are you going to be okay for the night or do you need me to stay over again?”

“Don’t want to be a burden,” she mumbled into the tea.

“I don’t have to work until tomorrow afternoon so it’s not a burden.”

 She smiled gratefully and finished her tea without another word. When she was done, she stood carefully. “I’m going to take a bath. You can do whatever you want. Thank you, Clint.”

 She disappeared into the bathroom and Clint washed out the mug. He filled his time by folding her blankets and looking at all her books.

Natasha sunk into a hot bath, still quivering, and pulled her knees against her chest. Clint was too good for her; she wasn’t used to this sort of treatment. When she was finished scrubbing the sins of her past from her body, and when the water grew tepid and cold, she wrapped herself in a robe and shuffled to her bed. Clint came in with a glass of water and sat on the other side. Natasha reached out and found his hand, clutching it. “I’ll be okay, I think,” she said with a small smile.

Clint stretched out beside her so she could pull his hand closer. “You’re the most extraordinary person I’ve met. Write it off all you want but to be able to find yourself again is so difficult.”

She snuggled close, nuzzling his shoulder. “I’d stay forever if they let me.” She was quiet after that.

Clint held her. “You can let yourself do anything, Natasha. That’s what being your own person means.”

“Did you learn that yourself or did someone tell you that?”

“I learned it myself. It’s what I try and teach Kate when I’m not buying her pizza. But I’m telling it to you.”

Natasha hummed for a moment before kissing him gently. “Thank you,” she said softly, nosing his cheek. “Guess I passed out in front of the right building this time.” She tucked herself under his chin and took a deep breath.

“Guess you did.”  A beat. “Are you…are you going to sleep?”

Natasha nodded.

Clint smiled to himself and held her happily, not even caring that her robe was damp. He had started by just helping, and had gained a friend along the way.  And just maybe, he had found something more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> stay tuned for the epilogue


	20. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Because I didn't want to wait a week.

Natasha squealed when the covers were tugged away, and she reached out futilely. “Clint, you asshole. I want some!” She’d been content to sleep in longer, but the shock of cold air had been enough to wake her.

Clint rolled around to face her, bundled in the blankets. He looked somewhat like a disheveled caterpillar and Natasha giggled. “But you look so good right now. And I’m warm.”

“I never made you go without blankets for all the time I stayed with you. There’s clearly enough to go around.” She started pulling at the edges of the blankets, making a place for herself. Clint didn’t struggle, and she wormed her way into the bundle. 

“S not fair,” he whined as she pressed against him. “You’re just too much.”

“I’m only too much when I choose for myself.” She settled. “And I think my debt to you has been repaid over and over again.”

Clint frowned. “Said there was no debt when you came here to stay.”

She poked him. “I know. I’m sorry.”

Clint nuzzled her and pressed a kiss to her shoulder. “I shouldn’t push. Should keep my mouth shut anyway. I’ll say something stupid. Again.”

“You didn’t shut up the first time we met. I never expected you to change.” Natasha wiggled, smirking. “Just as long as you know when it’s appropriate to ramble and when it’s not.”

“Are you planning on going back to sleep or should I make brunch?”

“Make it lunch, since I’m hungry for other things.”

With her wicked grin and playfulness leaving him hot and bothered, Clint felt that for once in his life he’d done good by people, rather than just by himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who stuck around to read this as I somehow made it update on a consistent basis every Thursday/Friday. I’m amazed at myself. Unfortunately with classes and other stuff going on, I decided to wrap this up (hey, at least I didn’t leave you hanging!) because otherwise I would stress too much about updating on time, and I have a ton of stuff to do. But it was a happy ride, especially since it was only supposed to be a one shot. That one-shot prompt morphed into this 19 chapter monster (not really, I’ve seen longer fics), but for over 11 thousand words, I think I did pretty good for myself over the past few months. And from the comments, there are a few of you who kept coming back. I appreciate that so much. Sometimes I feel like I’m screaming these words into a void and it’s nice to have some relatively consistent screaming back. It’s not scary. Not always. 
> 
> I don’t know how much time I’ll have to do long fics again, even ones that are 2,000 words. But for smaller ficlets or three sentence fics, please feel free to drop an ask by my tumblr, buckysleftarm. I may not get to it immediately, God knows I still have some unwritten prompts from 6 months ago, but if the mood strikes and I have 5 minutes to spare, I will write something. This thank you is bordering on the length of the epilogue, and it’s probably boring now, so I will leave it with one final thank you. Okay. There we go.


End file.
